Latin Lovers: Passionate Spaniards: The Spaniard's Marriage Demand / Kept by the Spanish Billionaire / The Spanish Doctor's Convenient Bride. Maggie Cox
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Автор: Maggie Cox
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Зарубежные любовные романы
isbn: 9781408952023
isbn:
‘But you won’t be here for her visit?’ Feeling her heart accelerate a little in sudden panic at the idea of meeting his mother without him being present, Isabella anxiously stroked the delicate skin of her throat.
Shrugging, Leandro dropped his hands to his hips. ‘I am sorry …but it is the first day of filming tomorrow and I have no idea what time I shall be home.’ Reaching into the back pocket of his jeans, he took out his wallet and extracted some notes. ‘Here is some money for you to get whatever you need for you and Raphael. Please take it …it is yours.’
‘I don’t want your money!’
Her dark eyes flared because Isabella was genuinely embarrassed that Leandro should give her money …as if she were some kind of pauper. She might not be exactly rich but she had not come to Spain without any funds whatsoever! His answering scowl was immediate and foreboding. ‘Isabella,’ he intoned seriously, ‘you are the mother of my son and soon to be my wife. Do not act as if I am treating you like some charity case. From now on my money is yours too and both you and our son must have whatever you need without question. Is that clear?’
‘Leandro,’ she replied a little breathlessly, ignoring the money in his outstretched hand, ‘it is far too early to talk of financial arrangements when there is still so much to sort out. And marriage is something that we have yet to properly discuss too.’
‘Bastante! Enough! It has been a long day, no? And perhaps something of a strain for both of us.’ He put the money down on a chair behind him and sighed. ‘Now is not the time for us to argue over the matter. Go and take your rest and I will be in my office.’
And before Isabella could even think of pressing the point, Leandro made his absence in the room acutely felt as he abruptly vacated it.
Checking on Raphael for the umpteenth time since she’d returned to their room, Isabella saw with deeply maternal satisfaction that her little boy continued to sleep peacefully in his travel cot by the side of the bed. Picking up the novel she’d been reading, she straightened her bookmark and closed it. Instead of reading, she leant back against the plumped up pillows covered in scented, immaculate white linen and released a sigh that seemed to emanate from her soul. It was almost half past midnight and there was still neither sight nor sound of Leandro. Isabella’s sigh helplessly transmuted into a yawn. It had
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